


Satan's Alley

by Rag



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, M/M, Not Happy, Porn, Priests, Religious Guilt, Repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2306063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rag/pseuds/Rag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kinkmeme fill:</p><p>Levi is the front man of some metal band and he runs into a disillusioned priest on a late night, post show meal run. He spends some time tormenting the poor man with some obscene gestures and looks before luring him on to the tour bus and taking him apart bit by bit with some filthy language and a good, hard fucking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satan's Alley

**Author's Note:**

> http://snkkink.dreamwidth.org/13546.html?thread=9300202#cmt9300202
> 
> to be perfectly clear this is about a priest giving in to temptation and feeling absolutely horrible about it
> 
> tw for a mention of incest

_Seat yourself,_ the old metal metal stand reads as Erwin steps into an unassuming diner.  He chooses a booth towards the edge of the restaurant.  

The place smells like old grease and lemon-scented disinfectant.  An old jukebox sits in the corner, and crinkling 50s nostalgia posters spottily adorn tobacco-yellowed walls. The lights are loud and too white, too bright, muting the beauty of the evening sunset through the windows.

Erwin hasn’t even taken out his notebook before a waitress is hovering over his table, setting down a glass of ice water with a beaming smile.

“Hello, my name is Dottie, want something to drink?”

Erwin orders a hot mint tea.

“Of course, Father, anything else?”

“No, thank you.”

Usually Erwin stays within his parish, but with the thoughts he’s here to mull over, he doesn’t want to see any members of his own community.  He’s in no position to offer reassurance, not until he’s resolved this, and thinking in his chambers only seems to make the thoughts more frenzied. 

He thought he might get different perspective somewhere new. He knows he’s grasping at straws.  It’s hopeless.

He closes his eyes and begins to murmur a rote serenity prayer.  He hears the waitress come back, set a ceramic cup on his table, and leave. She doesn't speak. He still loses his place. He gives up a moment later, stirring his tea instead.

She’d been so happy.  So many people are happy to see him, like he reaffirms their hope in humanity. It’s the outfit, he knows.  In plainclothes, no one would give him a second glance, no one would go out of their way to be kind.  The collared cassock tells them he’s a holy man.

He wouldn’t wear it out if he didn’t have to.  He’s deceiving them, perpetuating an appearance he’s no longer worthy of.

The last few weeks had been painful, years of insignificant doubts seemed to pile up and strike him all at once.  He’d never truly held much stock in the idea of purgatory, but he could abide by it, by the idea of forced rumination and meditation before one was allowed to pass on to their next life.  But a decree from Bishop DeVito, encouraging the parish to encourage larger indulgences  _at a funeral_?  To ask families their income to asses an appropriate suggested minimum?

He was obligated to obey, but ended up doing no more than placing an unmarked box in the west arcade, writing back that he’d incorporate the policies as quickly as possible.  A lie, and a continued, conscious disobedience against orders from those he’d sworn fealty to. 

After that, he started noticing other things- mothers hawking over their children when greeted the parish after mass, passages of scripture that could only have been metaphors, suggestions, that were to be taught as absolute fact.  The fact that he’d already disobeyed, already broken a sworn oath, seemed to make it all the more difficult to continue following any of the creeds he was questioning. 

Erwin sips his tea and looks over his notes.  They’re illegible to anyone but him, written in a self-coded Latin, veiled through two layers of confusion so neither public nor parish could see into his doubts.  Tonight, looking over them, he can’t help but think about the secrecy, the deception. 

The door jingles and Erwin stares at the man who walks in, his notes forgotten. He’s wearing shining, skin-tight black clothing, a material Erwin doesn’t recognize. What skin he shows is covered in vile tattoos.  Piercings riddle his face- nose, eyebrows, mouth, cheeks, the bridge of his nose- and Erwin sees a few balls in his neck, how is that possible?

He’s attractive, beneath all of it.  Sharp, almost beautiful features, silky ink-black hair, smooth skin-

Erwin forces himself to look away.  Such thoughts are only sinful if consciously dwelled or acted upon.

The man sits down a few seats away, facing Erwin, but doesn’t seem to notice him.  Erwin is thankful.  He’s in no mood to shepherd lost souls, and he can’t imagine anything good would come of provoking this man’s attention.

The waitress comes back. “Refill on your tea, father?”

Erwin nods and she takes the cup.

When she’s a few steps away, Erwin hears a strange wet sound.  He instinctively looks up.  A mistake.

The man is staring at him intently, piercingly, and sucking at the tip of his pointer finger, his face a caricature of pleasure.  Erwin’s heart seems to jump into his throat as he watches him stick his tongue out and licks around it, showing off the metal bar through the middle. 

The waitress comes back and sets a hot mug of tea on the table, breaking the spell.

Erwin should have looked away before.  He’s just tired, he tells himself.  And that man commands attention.  He’d acted on nothing. 

Without thinking, Erwin looks back up. The man locks eyes with him, demanding his attention, and lolls his shining wet tongue across his upper lip.  Erwin’s cheeks flame and he fixes on his tea instead.  A delightful blend, not even any need for sugar.  He’d have to ask the waitress what brand they use.  Or could it be a homemade batch?

Out of the corner of his eye, Erwin sees the man in black get up.  He hopes he won’t sit across from him, but of course he does, sliding into the booth like he belongs there, leaning against the edge and splaying his legs over the long seat. 

Erwin sets his tea down and looks up.  The man’s pupils are blown wide.  Erwin wouldn’t be surprised if he was high on something.

“Hello.”

The man shifts, legs on the ground, facing Erwin.

“What brings you to place like this, sweetcheeks?”

His voice is a little hoarse, but nice.  Rich.  Erwin feels a lump in his throat.  

"Don’t call me that.”

The man rolls his eyes.  “Fine,  _Father_.  Shouldn’t you be at church?”

“I-“

“Mass, whatever.”

“We  _are_  allowed time to ourselves.”

The man doesn’t seem interested.   “What’s that?”  He points at Erwin’s ledger.

Someone clears their throat.  The waitress.  Erwin hadn’t even noticed her coming.

“Father, he bothering you?” she asks, shooting the man a sharp glare.

“Dottie,” the man starts, and she grimaces, “I would  _never._ ”

“No,” Erwin says.  No?  “I know him.”

The waitress raises an eyebrow.  “Alright, then.  Ready to order?”

The man orders nachos.  Lots of cheese.  Smothered in cheese.  The waitress leaves halfway through his graphic descriptions about how the cheese should ooze off the plate.

The man turns to Erwin with a sharp, sudden movement.  “Father,” he whispers.  “Where did we meet?”

Erwin blinks, his mind going blank when he looks into his eyes.  He’d thought they were blown before, but he realizes there’s just so little difference between his pupils and his deep brown irises that Erwin couldn’t tell from a distance. 

Erwin forgets what was asked of him.

“What?” 

“You  _know_  me.”

 _Oh._ “She was going to have you thrown out.” Erwin says. 

“So you  _lied_?” The man  _tsks_. 

That _was_ wrong.  He reacted poorly in a nervous moment.  Erwin would take it to confessional. 

“I-“

The man grabs Erwin’s tea and takes a long drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing between sips.  He sets down the half-empty mug, his tongue flitting along his upper lip to catch traces of the drink.  Erwin can smell the tea on his breath. 

 “My name’s Levi, by the way.”

“Oh,” Erwin says weakly.

 “Ever been to Memphis?”

Erwin nods.

“Me too, last week.  Ever fucked twins?”

Erwin is too shocked to respond.

“Probably, yeah.  So, I’m doing the one from behind, real tight little twink, and the other one comes up and starts fucking me.  And that’s great, right?  Then they just start fucking making out over my head.  And I’m like, what the fuck, right?  I didn’t just waste my E to watch you sick fucks kiss.  So you know what they did next?”

 “Enough.”  Erwin feels sick.  “I’m sorry if I’ve misled you, but I won’t be harassed.  Please leave me alone.”

Levi sighs.  “Fine, the shock-value thing was getting stale anyway.  You wanna know why I'm here?”

Erwin does not, but Levi takes his silence as an affirmative.  He sets his hand down on the table and looks right into Erwin’s eyes. 

“I’m alone for the night, and you seem like you need a good, hard fuck.”

Erwin swallows.  What had he honestly expected?

“I-“ his voice comes out pathetically wobbly.  He takes a sip of water before continuing, ignoring Levi’s jackal-like smile.  “Perhaps you’re unaware, but as a priest-“

“Celibacy is bullshit and you know it.”

“I do  _not_ -“

“Then why are you still here?”

Erwin’s head reels.  He knows the answer, feels it eating at his chest. 

“You're starving for it, aren’t you, Father?"

Erwin stares at his mug. He tries to calm his rapid heartbeats. He will not respond.

He jolts when he feels a bare foot slide up the inside of his calf.  Levi grins.

He should stop this.  Now.

Levi’s foot creeps up higher, rubs at his thigh.  Erwin bites his lip, but he can’t hold back a gasp.  It’s been so long. Even from this minute contact, through the layers of thick cloth, Erwin can feel fire licking through his veins.  

“Admit it, Father.”

A mindful, deliberate offense against God, truth, and conscience.  A mortal sin.

Erwin trembles.

Why won’t he push him away?

Levi leans in a little closer.  “You know, you’re kinda acting like a slut,” he whispers, his foot dragging closer, inch by painful inch-

The waitress comes back, all at once, slapping both of their receipts on the table. 

“Get out.”

Erwin can’t meet her eyes.

“Bitch,” Levi says, too loudly, when she starts to walk away.  He pulls a crisp $50 bill from his wallet and sets it under Erwin’s mug.  “So, I’m parked right around-“

“We-” _We_? “I have to go.” 

Erwin doesn’t want to wait for the waitress to call the police.  He sets $5 on the table and pulls his bag over his shoulder, positioning it over his crotch before he gets up.

“Baby, c’mon, don’t be like that!”

Erwin doesn’t turn around.

Levi follows him.  Erwin hates himself for being relieved.

Levi doesn’t speak to him until they’re off the property, then rams Erwin into an apartment brick wall. Erwin can hardly see, the pale glow of the streetlamps don't extend this far, but feeling is more than enough.  Pain and pleasure muddle his thoughts.  Levi’s strong, much stronger than he looks, and holds Erwin in place with a firm, coiled pressure that has Erwin’s mind reeling with filth. 

“Like I was saying,  _Father_ , I’m parked around the corner.  Won't you _come_ with me?” he asks, mouthing against Erwin’s ear. 

Erwin shudders and feels his skin prickle down his neck, hot from just the touch of breath, and then Levi licks at the shell of his ear, kisses wet at the soft spot behind his lobe and Erwin moans in spite of himself.

He made an oath.

 “C’mon.  I’ll treat you so good, give you just what you need," he whispers, the words dripping like poison from his mouth.   Erwin should be pushing him off, running away instead of panting for more. "How long since someone fucked you?  How long since someone sucked that big dick of yours?  I felt that tent, Father.  Gimme a taste, won’t you?”  His voice gets desperate as he goes on, like a bad porn star, and it’s making Erwin shudder, and he starts  _writhing_  their bodies together and-

“Please,  _please_ , Father,  _oh,_  Father, harder, fuck me harde-“

Erwin buckles over. He doesn't have time to understand what’s happening before the unbearably sharp pleasure crashes through him. 

Levi steps back, lets him ride it out, lets him bear alone the numb panic that sets in as his filthy orgasm recedes.

“Golly, Father, did you just cream your pants in an alley?”

Erwin stares at the ground.  He feels cold to his bones.

_What have I done?_

“You still there?”

Erwin can’t speak.

“Come back to my place, I’ll clean you up,” he says, and walks away.

Erwin absolutely should not follow him.  He could tell himself- unconvincingly, maybe- that this didn’t count, that it was no worse than a wet dream.  It seemed like something Bishop DeVito would approve, a technical loophole that absolved him of accountability. 

If he follows Levi, there’s no going back.

His feet take him a few steps, back to the street.  Just to see where Levi’s going.  He won’t follow.

It’s impossible to miss the trailer, probably a hundred feet long, cold clean steel glowing bright yellow in the streetlamps.  Levi pulls out his keys and unlocks the door.  He turns to Erwin, half a block away, and waits.

Erwin follows him.  Every single heavy step, he knows he can turn back.

Levi locks the door behind them.

The trailer is dark and dank with a stale scent of marijuana.  Levi flips a switch and a light turns on a few feet away, softly illuminating a big, filthy-looking bed, some bean bags, and a large television. 

 Levi leans forward and takes Erwin’s collar between his thumb and forefinger, runs his fingers back and forth.

“Thank  _God_ , I almost thought you wouldn’t make it.” 

The emphasis isn’t lost on Erwin, but he won’t ask him to stop.  He made this choice, he’ll reap what he's sown.  He looks down at Levi, allowing himself to take in his immaculate skin, his gorgeous, thick eyelashes, his thick, pale pink lips.  He ignores his screaming conscience and permits himself to embrace desire. _  
_

He leans down to press his lips to Levi's, but Levi starts and pushes him away.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

 It’s too late to go back, but this, no. He can't break his vows with someone who won’t dignify him with a kiss.  He takes a step toward the door and freezes.

 _That’s_ what’s changing his mind?

He's lost.

“Wait, okay, sorry, just wait,” Levi says.  “The show gets to my head sometimes.  I swear I’m not  _that_  much of an asshole.  You wanna make out a little?  C’mere.”

He sounds sincere.  Erwin knows it’s not the total truth, it can’t be, it’s just an act to get what he wants.  There is no way to know with any real semblance of certainty this man’s intentions, motivations, even his personality. 

But what  _does_  Erwin know for certain?

He knows that he’s already done more than he can forgive himself for.  He knows this strange man is at least pretending he wants to kiss him.  He knows he’ll never be able to put on his holy robes again without being crushed the weight of thick, suffocating shame.  He knows enough to go back and take Levi's hand.

Levi pulls him close and kisses him so sweetly, Erwin can hardly believe it's still him, even with the cool press of metal rings on either side of his bottom lip.  Levi wraps his arms around Erwin like he’s razor-thin glass, resting his palms on Erwin's back.  It’s almost jarring in context, so Erwin makes himself forget context.  He closes his eyes and feels it.

He’d wanted this. He’d spent years reconciling, repressing, praying for peace against his hunger for the touches of another man, the press of his firm, demanding lips, the taste of his tongue.  Every kiss feels like a mirage of water pouring down his parched throat, making him crave more and more the more he drinks.  It’s never enough. 

Levi kisses at Erwin’s jaw, nibbles and sucks his way up to his ear and Erwin’s neck goes slack with pleasure, rolling to the other side.

“Can I suck you off, Father?” Levi asks, breathing hot down his neck.  Erwin stifles a moan and Levi presses closer, lets Erwin burn with the heat between their bodies, his cock hard against Erwin’s hip.  “Come on.  Say it.  Tell me what you want.”

 “Yes.”

“Say it, Father.”

Erwin knows what Levi’s doing, making  _him_  ask for it. Making him commit to it.

 A mortal sin.

“Suck me," he whispers.

“Okay,” Levi says.  Erwin knows from his tone he’s taunting him, he hasn’t done it yet, and he feels his mouth hot on his neck.  Sucking.  Erwin bites his lip.

“Ple-“ No, he won’t give Levi the satisfaction of begging.  He takes as deep a breath as he can with his heartbeat racing.  “Suck my… di-dick.”

It sounds abhorrent in his mouth.  Revolting.  Wrong.

Levi pulls away, wearing that grin again, and kneels.  Erwin’s thoughts race and he starts to tremble, and he has to focus to stop himself coming already.

Levi’s hands run little circles over Erwin’s hips, making him shudder, but his confidence seems to falter the longer he goes on.  His hands get more curious, less sensual.  He tugs at the edge of his cassock, but Erwin’s belt keeps the fabric in place.

It’s enough of a stall that Erwin has time to consider, again, leaving.  Instead, he unbuckles his belt and opens up his robe, laying it down on the countertop behind him but faltering when Levi dives right in, mouths at his underwear. Erwin doesn’t even notice the robes falling to the floor.

It’s the first concentrated touch in decades, soft lips with gentle pressure, kissing and pressing his cock into the mess he’d made in the alley.  Erwin doesn’t even think before grabbing at Levi’s hair, pulling hard enough to rip a moan from Levi’s throat, vibrations he feels even though the cloth.

“Oh, G-“ Erwin slaps a hand over his mouth to stop himself.

Levi looks up, grinning wildly as he drags the briefs down Erwin's legs.  Erwin’s cock pops out from beneath the band, springing obscenely, throbbing.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Father.  How long has it been?”

“Fifteen years.”

“What the fuck is wrong- fuckin’-“ Levi stops trying to say whatever it was he was trying to say and kisses around Erwin’s groin.  Cleaning him up, he’d said, but nothing about this feels clean.  Levi eats at his skin like he’s famished, sucking _so close_ but not yet where Erwin needs it.  Erwin’s on the brink of letting go of his pathetic reservations and just begging for more when Levi looks up, his eyes boring into Erwin's, and licks a slow stripe up his length.

Erwin’s hips try to buck but Levi grabs them and holds them still as he swipes his sinful tongue back and forth, up and down.  Erwin bites his hand but the moans come out regardless, unbidden, shameful, whorish and loud.  Levi kisses at him, soft wet lips and warm metal against his swollen sex, panting between them, mumbling.

“Fuck, yeah, Father, fucking moan, God-“

Erwin doesn’t like to think about  _why_  Levi’s enjoying this so much, but Levi makes it easy to forget with every licentious swipe of his tongue. Erwin hasn’t entertained these thoughts in so long, hasn’t indulged them, and he can now, and all he can think is how he wants to feel his hot mouth all around him, come down his throat, thrust his hips up into his mouth, make him gag on it.

Levi licks his lips and opens his mouth and-

Erwin pulls Levi off hard by his hair, makes him groan and glare.

“What, second thoughts now?  Kind of fucking late-”

Erwin has to look away, he can’t look at Levi’s flushed cheeks and wet, slightly swollen mouth, not when he’s coming down. “I was about to…”

Erwin finds he can’t finish the sentence.

“Oh,  _Father._   I’ll make you come so many fucking times tonight, don’t worry.  Fun’s not over after this.”

Erwin feels his cock throb, and then all he knows is that tight, hot, warm pleasure of Levi’s mouth on him again.

Levi doesn’t hold his hips anymore, and Erwin thinks he hears the sound of a zipper but he’s more focused on the fact that when his hips buck up farther he feels Levi moan around him, louder and harsher the more he thrusts.  Like he wants it.

Erwin has no idea how long that lasts, frantically fucking his hips up against Levi’s face, Levi moaning with knitted eyebrows and his eyes nearly rolled back in pleasure, until he spills again, down Levi’s throat, moaning pathetically as the pleasure wracks him.

Levi gets up as Erwin’s coming down and all but pushes him into the main room, onto the bed.  Erwin watches as he tears his clothes off and gets on the bed. 

“Hope you’re gonna return the favor, Father.”

Erwin swallows thickly and stares at his cock.  Hard, pierced through the tip, jutting out from his clean-shaven groin. 

He wants to.  He wants to touch him, swallow him, let Levi use his body however he wants. 

“I don’t know how-“

Levi smiles and cuts him off.  “Just lay back.”

Erwin lays on the bed, glad the sheets at least feel clean.  Then, Levi’s swinging his leg- covered in pentagrams, Latin nonsense, angry-looking animals and faces- across Erwin’s face to straddle his shoulders.  Erwin can feels his ass against his chest, not enough pressure to restrict his breathing, just enough to  _know_  it’s there, bare skin against his.

Levi looks down at him with a mix of intimidation and tenderness that has Erwin shivering, and runs his thumb over Erwin’s bottom lip.  The fleeting touch alone sparks with such sensation that Erwin gasps. 

He has to remind himself doesn’t believe in fallen angels, incubi, demons.  That archaic ideas like that are part of what fueled his doubt.

“Open up,” Levi says, almost gently.

Erwin opens his mouth.  His tongue darts out from muscle memory, extending just past his mouth as if to receive the Eucharist.  The realization sends a sick, revolting thrill through him.  Thankfully, it seems lost on Levi, who just pushes in with a filthy groan of pleasure. 

Erwin feels a flutter of arousal building up again at the thick, foreign taste.  He wraps his lips around him, closing his eyes to take in the sensation- hot, velvety, firm, and Erwin swears he can feel a little throb like a heartbeat against his tongue.  His mouth waters.

“Watch your teeth,” he says, not harshly.  Erwin opens his jaw a bit wider.  “Wrap your lips over.”

Why is Erwin  _so_  eager to do everything he says?

Levi sways his hips, slowly working his cock in and out of Erwin’s mouth. _Fucking_ him.  Erwin has to remind himself to breathe; he loves it, feels it almost sympathetically, moans with every thrust. 

“Fuck.  So good, Father.  You like this?”

Erwin nods minutely, careful of his teeth.  Levi laughs and moans.

“So fucking dirty.  Wouldn’t even know you were a priest anymore, if you didn’t look so fucking-  _nn_ \- guilty about it.”

His thrusts get deeper, harsher, his piercing poking at the back of his throat.  He pushes in deep, his cock fucking just past Erwin’s uvula, Erwin’s lips kissing the skin at his base.  Without thinking, Erwin sucks, and Levi curses violently.

It’s frenzied after that, Levi bucking his hips hard and fast into Erwin’s swollen mouth, Erwin’s hips thrusting up uselessly against nothing until Levi pulls out. He works himself almost angrily, telling Erwin what a slut he is, how hard he’s going to fuck him, and then he’s coming thick strips over Erwin’s face.  It’s grossly arousing in itself, and then he just leans over and licks it up, licking his  _come_  off Erwin’s  _face_ , and Erwin realizes he’s whimpering.  When Levi kisses him, Erwin tastes it on his tongue.

He never wants tonight to end.

-

When Erwin wakes up, it’s not yet dawn.  Someone’s nudging at his shoulder, and he hears voices coming from another room.

“Hey, so, we gotta be in Austin in ten hours,” Levi says.

“Oh.”

Erwin sits up, too quickly.  Levi was gentle with him at first, took his time doing things Erwin hadn’t even heard of.  Then took care to fuck him with a ferocity Erwin would never have imagined he could endure, much less enjoy.

He walks, bowlegged, to where he left his clothes.  Picks them off the floor and puts them on.  They feel itchy, burning at his skin.  Erwin desperately hopes that he’s dreaming, that he’ll soon wake up in his chamber and get ready for mass.  He wants to vomit.

“You want a taxi?” Levi asks, yawning.

“No, no need,” Erwin says quietly.

“What’s your number?  I’ll call you next time I’m in town.”

Erwin gives it to him, knowing he won’t call.  He’ll be nothing but another sensational story he tells, one of many.  That’s fine.  He deserves nothing more.

He’s about to close the door when Levi stops him.

“What’s your name, anyways?”

He opens his mouth, but the word won’t come out.  “Joseph,” he says instead.  His middle name.

“Father Jos-“

“No, just.  Joseph.”

Levi smirks.  “See you around, Joseph.”

Erwin closes the door behind him and steps back into the darkness.  

**Author's Note:**

> concrit always welcome!


End file.
